Erased From This World
by Gala000085
Summary: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tail along with an angry spirit. Takes place after FPB but before WIAWSNB. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tail, along with an angry spirit. Set after FPB but before WIAWSNB.**

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**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 1_**

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran faster than his legs would let him. He almost fell when he turned sharp down a narrow alleyway with towering sides, leaving no places to change your mind. He kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to let himself look back. He ignored the pain in his side, telling him to stop. His head was screaming, his heart banging hard against his bloody chest.

He saw a high fence looming up ahead of him, and he shortened his strides for a few steps while calculating the distance. He sped forwards again and jumped up against the fence, crawling his way over it. He landed hard on the other side, falling down onto his side. He heaved for breath as he tried to push himself up. He heard footsteps running along the alley the way he had just come. He forced himself up and ran on. He rounded a sharp corner and recognised the street.

He ran on down the street, still ignoring the stitch in his side, his pounding head and banging heart. He saw the trustworthy black car parked on the side of the road. He ran past it and hurried on up another narrow alley. He skidded to a stop when he approached a pair of large black dustbins. Heaving for breath he walked round them and fell to the ground, which was covered in his brother's blood. He looked into his brother's face, seeing only a pale replica of the face he once knew.

He touched the other's hand gently and whispered in a hoarse voice, "Dean?"

* * *

**Two weeks earlier**

"Sam will you get your ass down here?" Dean yelled impatiently from Bobby's kitchen. Why did his brother always have to spend double the amount of time on something than other people?

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Sam said irritably as he came running down the stairs, putting on his jacket.

"Are you boys sure you will be alright?" Bobby asked, emerging from the front door.

"Yeah, it's just another spirit." Dean said walking out of the kitchen with his bag in his hand.

"I meant about the police." Bobby said sternly, looking from Sam to Dean. "You know that it was some stupid shit you did, walking straight into that prison."

"We're fine, Bobby." Dean said with a smile as he walked past the elder hunter and out the front door.

Dean knew that it had not been the cleverest thing they had ever done, but he stubbornly withheld the thought that it was the right thing. He walked over to the Impala and threw his bag into the back seat, thereafter positioned himself in the driver's seat and waited for Sam. They had heard of another hunt from one of Bobby's fellow hunters who had said that it was probably a spirit, but that he was heading north to look at werewolf attacks. Dean had been eager to take the hunt, Sam had been a little less so.

"Afternoon, Sammy." Dean said sarcastically, noting the rising sun, as Sam threw his bag onto the back seat too.

"Ha ha very funny." Sam said calmly as he sat himself down in the passenger seat.

Dean started the engine and smirked at the sound. He turned the music on loud and drove away from Bobby's house. Sam only looked slightly pained by Dean's idea of playing loud music, but did not complain. They drove on down the road, listening to the music and the rumbling of the Impala.

"So," Dean said, turning down the music slightly so he and Sam could talk, "what did you find out about this spirit? Is it a spirit?"

"Sounds like it." Sam said pulling out his laptop from his bag and started it up. "As far as I have been able to find out it's Jake Knowel. He was apparently quite a criminal in his time."

"What did he do?" Dean asked, casting a glance at Sam trying to see if he could see anything on the computer screen.

"Dude, the road." Sam reminded him before continuing with the information. "Jake Knowel was a serial killer, but his methods were inconsistent, as though he wanted to try something new at every murder. His only consistency was to stalk his next victim for a little time before taking action; sometimes letting himself be seen by that person alone." Sam shifted slightly in his seat, scrolled down on the computer screen and continued. "This spirit as killed five people so far. The husband of the second victim said that his wife had claimed to have seen a man staring at her in their kitchen before disappearing into thin air. It seems that all of these victims have been killed differently. However, all the killings were done in Jake Knowel style."

"Pretty good, Geek Boy." Dean joked, his eyes flashing in Sam's direction for a second, just in time to see his brother smile confidently for a moment. It was great to be back on the road with his brother being his good normal self. Dean thought he better test his responses anyway. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam said instinctively.

They drove on for hours, talking most of the way about all sorts of things; sometimes past hunts including their last in the prison, or talking more about their current job. They both realised after a while that they were really rather lucky not to be in prison at the current time. Dean quickly changed the subject, not really wanting to talk about the prison.

"Sam, what do you say we grab something to eat and drive on again after that?" Dean asked pointing at a café at the side of the road.

"Sounds good to me." Sam said cheerfully, stretching in the seat, knocking his hands into the ceiling.

"Don't hurt the car." Dean joked as he parked the car in front of the small roadside café.

"I am glad to see where your priorities lie." Sam joked back as he got out of the car.

Dean got out too, locked the car while giving it a small pat on the roof, mostly to see Sam's reaction. Sam merely shook his head and walked towards the café. Dean followed him, giving him a small whack on the back of the head as he walked past him. He heard Sam grunt slightly, and thought that now that he had started it; his brother would most likely try to get him back.

"So immature…" He heard Sam mumble. He laughed inwardly and walked into the crowded café.

The hours on the road had tired both brothers and they were both happy to sit down at the café and eat something rather than hurriedly take something out to the car and drive on.

"You think we should call, Bobby?" Sam asked after swallowing a mouthful of food.

"Why?" Dean said through a mouthful of food.

"Just to let him know we have come so far without being stopped by the police." Sam said.

"Yeah, alright." Dean said while fishing out his phone and he dialled Bobby's number. "Hey there Bobby, it's Dean….yeah, yeah, just wanted to tell you as Sam put it that we have come this far without being stopped by the police…I am not a smart-ass…Yeah, see you, Bobby." Dean put down the phone and looked up when he noticed that Sam was laughing. "What?"

"Smart-ass?" Sam said questionably after getting his laughter under control.

"It's not funny, dude." Dean said, though he was trying not to laugh at the memory of hearing the older man say 'smart-ass'.

"It is." Sam protested.

"Who's immature now?"

* * *

**Hotel Room, New York**

He threw cold water at his face, trying to wake himself up completely. It worked after three times and he dried his face with a towel, growling silently as he brought it down and seeing bloody patches. He thought that his head wound had stopped bleeding by now but his restless sleep had apparently irritated it. He splashed some more cold water on the wound, and then dabbed it lightly with the towel, until the bleeding minimised to almost nothing.

He threw the towel down in the bathtub, before walking out of the bathroom and into the small bedroom. He picked up the gun lying under the pillow, and checked it for bullets. He emptied it and threw the empty case down on the bed while putting the bullets into the pockets of the jacket hanging from a chair next to the bed. He ran his hand through his close cut black hair before lying down on the bed. He lay and stared up onto the ceiling, trying to rid his mind of all thoughts.

A loud bleeping cut through his mind and he reluctantly got off the bed and walked back to his jacket, where he withdrew a small mobile phone. The screen read: 'INCOMING TARGET'. He kept his mind on the screen and waited for his next target to appear on the screen. He had never asked why he was to terminate the people who became his targets, it was simply not important for his job. The screen of the mobile phone flashed once and the previous message was replaced by two pictures, both of two young men; their names read respectively: 'DEAN WINCHESTER' and 'SAM WINCHESTER'.

* * *

"Home, sweet home." Dean said ironically as they walked into a shabby looking motel. At least the room had two beds, a bathroom and even, to Dean's pleasure, a TV. He put his bag down in the corner by one of the beds, took off his jacket before falling down on the bed, the TV remote in his hand.

"Shower?" Sam prompted him.

Dean merely grunted and continued to flick through the channel. He watched Sam's back as he walked into the small bathroom. It was not long before Dean could hear the water running and Sam's yell as he realised the coolness of the water. Dean chuckled and bore his back a little deeper into the pillow and continued to flick channel. He was not really expecting anything to turn up, but it almost made him feel normal to just slump down on a bed in front of a TV.

"The water is cold." Sam warned as he walked out of the shower, a towel around his waist.

"Yeah, I heard." Dean said and smiled as he walked past Sam and into the bathroom.

Dean soon found out just how cold the water was and did not spend much more than five minutes in the bathroom. He walked out to find Sam sitting on the end of the other bed with the TV remote in his hand.

"That was quick." He said, looking up at his brother.

"The water was cold." Dean said, lying down on his bed.

"Yeah," Sam said a smile appearing on his face, "I heard."

"So, any idea what we are going to do when we get to the town tomorrow?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's comment.

"Have a look around." Sam suggested, turning off the TV and lying down on his own bed.

"Dude, how angry do you think this Jake Knowel's spirit is?" Dean asked, turning his head in Sam's direction, unable to see much in the darkness.

"Well, there seems to be no records of how he died, which makes it a little harder for us." Sam said in response to Dean's question. "I guess we will have to try and find out when we hit the town. I suppose that what's holding his spirit there is probably in that town."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dean said, returning to staring into the direction of the ceiling.

He didn't really worry that much about the job. They had hunted so many spirits by now that they were almost the 'normal' hunt, however angry they might be. He smiled at the thought that they had actually escaped from the prison and again almost wished that he could have seen Hendrickson's face.

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**Please tell me what you think by hitting that review button!**

**_Disclaimer_: I don't own the show or the characters.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assasins are on their tail, along with an angry spirit. **

**A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews!**

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**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 2_**

"Knock knock." Dean said as he entered the motel room with a couple of paper bags, to find Sam sitting on the end of his bed typing furiously on his laptop. He looked up when Dean entered.

"Breakfast or Darwinism?" Sam asked, his eyes resting on the paper bags.

"Breakfast." Dean assured him, before handing him one of the bags. "I found a bakery down the road, so even you should be satisfied."

They were quiet for a few minutes, both munching on their rolls.

"You got anything new?" Dean asked with a glance at the laptop.

"Someone died there last night." Sam informed him.

"You know, Hendrickson was kind of right; where death is, so are we." Dean said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam said, clearly lost in thought. "So are we hitting the road?"

"You are in a hurry." Dean said with his mouth full of bread.

Sam cleared his throat and looked away from Dean, starting to pack up his laptop. Dean watched him carefully slide it into its satchel, before picking up his other bag and walking towards the door to the room. Dean guessed that was probably his cue to hurry up, so he quickly finished breakfast, got his bag and locked the room.

They walked purposefully towards the Impala, both throwing their bags into the bag seat and climbing into the front: Dean at the wheel as always. The car drove out from the motel and out onto the quiet road. The drive was very much like the one they had had the previous day: music and talk. Dean was glad that Sam at least was in a talkative mood after their arguments about the prison.

It was some four hours later around midday that they pulled up in front of a motel. They had arrived at the town where the murders had taken place and had thought that they would check in before starting their 'looking around' in the town. Sam got the rooms while Dean unloaded their bags. The were pleased to see that this motel at least was a little less shabby than the previous as it even held a small table and two chairs along with the two beds, TV and bathroom.

Dean put his bag down onto the nearest bed and searched through it for the suit he hated so much.

"Dude, where's the Blue's Brother's suit?" He asked when he was unsuccessful.

"In the trunk of the car." Sam informed him before closing the door behind himself to the bathroom.

Dean sighed and walked out to the Impala. He unlocked the trunk, and with a look around to make sure no one was looking, opened it. He smirked slightly at the sight of all of their weapons. He rummaged around a bit before fishing out two plastic bags. He took a peek and satisfied that it were the suits, took them out, locked the trunk and walked back to the motel room.

Dean walked across the car park, the plastic bags swinging from one hand. He suddenly stopped. All his instincts were screaming at him to run, but he didn't know why. He felt an uneasy tickling feeling running down his back. He turned around, but saw nothing. He scanned the parking area trying to work out the cause for his unease. When he didn't find anything unusual he turned around slowly and walked back towards the motel room; a little quicker than before.

He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He walked into the room; put the plastic bags down, before drawing up a chair by the window. He drew the curtains slightly aside so he was able peer out, while he started loading his gun. He heard Sam walking out of the bathroom; heard his brother stop when he saw Dean's position.

"What's up?" Sam asked as he walked over to the plastic bags and, finding his suit, started to put it on.

"Nothing." Dean said, hoping he was right. He cast a glance out of the window towards the Impala; nothing. "Hey, Sam, when you're done there, could you take over here for me?"

"Sure." Sam said quietly. Dean could hear his brother wanting to ask questions, but was grateful for the silence.

Dean got up from the chair with a last look out of the window. Sam settled himself in the chair and started tying his tie. He was quiet; too quiet. Dean knew perfectly well what it meant when Sam was too quiet: chick-flick moment approaching or anger outburst. Dean did not really want either, so he tried to relax and fall back to how he had been before he had walked out to the Impala.

"Where do you want to go first, Sam?"

"Maybe check out with some of the relatives of the ones who have died. I mean out of six murders we should be able to get one of them to talk." Sam said, looking intently out of the window. Dean wondered how he was able to do that when he did not even know why he was keeping watch. _Just my freak brother_, he thought. "Then afterwards, go to the library to see if we can't find out anything about Jake Knowel."

"Dude, don't tell me we're going to the library looking like this?" Dean said looking down at himself. Sam always seemed quite at home in a suit, though Dean much more preferred the jeans and t-shirt.

"Shall we go then?" Sam said, ignoring Dean's question and got up from the chair.

"Yeah." Dean said absentmindedly. He took one more glance out of the window before snatching up the car keys. He slipped his gun into the back of his trousers before opening the motel door and walking out.

He walked cautiously towards the car, feeling Sam's eyes on his back, but neither of them spoke. Reaching the Impala, Dean faked dropping the keys and bent down low enough to peer under the car. When he saw nothing Dean told himself that he was imagining things. He got up, unlocked the car and got in. Sam got quietly into the passenger's side, his eyes avoiding Dean. The Impala drove away from the motel and headed for the town. It drove for five minutes before it came to a halt in front of a load of terraced houses.

"This is it?" Dean asked as the brothers got out of the car.

"Yeah, this was where the second murder took place. I don't really think that the relatives of the one that died last night will be too talkative." Sam said as he tightened his tie and started walking towards the front door of one of the houses.

"Of course they would be; I mean one look at us…" Dean didn't finish as Sam shot him one-of-those glares.

Sam rang the doorbell and they heard muffled voices before the door was pulled open. It revealed a squat man with wisps of brown hair, round glasses that magnified his eyes slightly.

"Yes?" He said, his voice had a slight squeak to it.

"FBI." Dean said holding up his badge. Sam did the same, and the squat man let them in.

He showed them into a living room with a couch and two chairs. Sam and Dean sat down on the chairs and the man looked at them expectantly from the couch.

"Mr Peters?" Sam said questionably.

"Yes?" The man said at once, still with that expecting look in his eyes.

"We want to go through some things about your wife." Dean said, leaning forwards in the chair towards the man.

"Debbie? Have you found out anything else?" Mr Peters looked more expectant than ever.

"No, we're newly assigned to the case and just want to go over a few things with you." Sam said. Mr Peters' face dropped slightly.

"I'll just say what I have said before then." Mr Peters squeaked calmly. When neither Sam nor Dean said anything he continued. "The night Debbie died; I came home a bit later than usually as I had been held up at work. I came in and found her in the kitchen with a…with a…erm…knife in her throat."

"Did she ever mention anything strange to you beforehand?" Sam asked, showing sympathy in his voice.

"Well, there was one night – the night before she died – where she claimed that there had been a man down in the kitchen that had disappeared into thin air. I told her that it was nothing to worry about; that there had been nothing." Mr Peters looked down at his feet guiltily.

"It wasn't you fault, Mr Peters." Sam said reassuringly. Mr Peters, however, looked doubtful when he looked up. "Did your wife tell you what this man looked like?"

"Normal height; rather long blackish hair; rather old fashioned typed clothing." Mr Peters said while counting on his fingers the things he said as though to make sure he was not forgetting anything.

"Thank you, Mr Peters." Sam said as he and Dean rose from their chairs. Mr Peters jumped up immediately.

"You will find out what happened; who did this, won't you?" He asked as he showed them to the door.

"We will do our best, Mr Peters." Dean said, giving the squat man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

They heard the door close behind them as they walked back to the Impala. Clouds had started to draw over and Dean moaned slightly as he felt the first raindrop. As they got to the car Dean was about to get in when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Not going to check under the car again?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean said with a forced chuckle.

"Dude, you think I didn't notice that something strange was going on back at the motel?" Sam said as he walked round the passenger's side.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Dean persisted, though he still felt the urge to drop down on his knees and check under the car.

"So that little dropping the car keys and bending down so low that you could look under the car that was complete clumsiness?" Sam said mockingly.

"Fine I'll look under the car if it will make you happy." Dean said. He was pretty sure that was not what Sam meant, but it was an excuse to look under the Impala. He bent down low and once again found nothing. "There; now I've checked under the car; can we go?"

Sam looked for a moment as though he was prepared to strangle him but got into the car. Dean let out a breath and followed suit. Dean closed his eyes for a moment before turning on the engine. The car roared to the life and they were soon travelling down the road on route to the library. Dean pulled over the car in front of the small local library.

"I bet they will have loads to tell." Dean said sarcastically as they got out of the car and started walking towards the front doors, still feeling the light drizzle.

"Be positive, Dean; just try to be positive." Sam said as he strolled past his brother and opened the door to the library.

"I'm always positive."

"Uh huh?"

"Yep."

"Can I help you with anything?"

Dean almost jumped back out of the door when he looked at the woman in front of him. It was like all of the stereotypes of a librarian had been brought together to this one. She wore large glasses, a woolly shawl over a wool jumper and a long skirt. Her hair seemed to be poking in every direction and was turning a steely grey. Dean forced a smile; Sam seemed quite at home, however.

"Yeah, we were wondering if you had any old newspapers." Sam said politely.

"Think we might do." The librarian said in her lazy drone.

"Anything on Jake Knowel?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Who's asking?" She said, her upper lip curled and Dean realised it was her version of a smile; an evil smile.

Dean resisted the urge to say, "We are," and instead said, "FBI, ma'am."

The librarian seemed a lot more helpful after that, and it was not much more than ten minutes later that Sam and Dean were looking through old newspapers.

"Hey; hey, dude; look at this." Dean said passing Sam the newspaper he had been reading some fifteen minutes later. Dean leaned back in his chair with a smock expression on his face. "Read it out, dude."

"Jake Knowel was believed to have been trapped inside his own house as it was burned down from the outside." Sam obliged. Sam gave the newspaper back to Dean. "Where do you think his house was then?"

"Don't ask me, you're the college boy." Dean said happily as he edged down further into the uncomfortable chair.

Sam merely nodded and continued to look through the newspapers. He took out his laptop and started typing something down. His eyes started darting from side to side across the screen.

"Dean, look at this." Sam turned the laptop around so Dean's could see the screen.

Dean leaned in to get a better view.

"No way; you don't think…?" Dean said as he stared at the laptop screen.

"That Jake Knowel killed off some people and took their house?" Sam said completing Dean's sentence for him. "Yeah, I think he did."

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**I would love a review to tell me how this is going so far!**

**_Disclaimer:_ I don't own the show or the characters - well except the librarian and Mr Peters.**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assasins are on their tail, along with an angry spirit.**

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**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 3_**

It was getting dark by the time the Winchester brothers made their way back to the motel. They had spent some more time in the library, trying to find out if the saying that Jake Knowel was trapped inside a burning house was true. After all, as Dean had pointed out, no one was really sure if it was true considering it had been an elderly lady who had claimed that the killer was indeed in the house when it burned to the ground.

Dean parked the Impala closer to the motel room than he had done earlier, as he still had an uneasy feeling even though he told himself that it was nothing; that he was only imagining things. Dean checked if his gun was still in his trousers before getting out of the car. When Sam had got out he locked it and started to make his way towards the room. He kept behind Sam the entire way, though his brother turned his head sometimes and gave him a glare.

"Are you planning on telling me what's going on with you?" Sam asked as Dean closed the motel room door.

"I told you, Sam; nothing is going on." Dean lied as he threw the car keys on the table.

"Dean, this façade, you know that I can see right through it." Sam pressed on as he took hold of Dean's arm to stop him locking himself in the bathroom.

"Let go of me, Sammy." Dean said as he shrugged off his brother. Great, now they even had to start fighting.

"Dean."

"Sam." Dean said returning the stare that Sam gave him.

"Fine; you wallow in whatever it is you're wallowing in." Sam said and turned his back to his brother.

"Something's going on." Dean admitted quietly.

"You don't say Dean; we're on a hunt!" Sam hissed as he turned to face Dean again.

"Sam, listen to me; this morning when I went to get the suits I…er…" Dean started to explain but got stopped. How was he supposed to explain that all of his instincts had screamed at him to either fight or run when there had been nothing to see?

"You what?" Sam said, his voice had lost some of its anger.

"Don't know; I just felt weird." Dean said, hoping that his brother would drop it. As he explained what the problem was he realised how stupid it sounded.

"Weird how?" Sam asked as he took of his jacket and hung it over one of chairs.

"Like I was being watched."

Sam looked rather frightened before he pulled himself together and asked, "You don't think you're Jake Knowel's next victim do you?"

This thought had not even occurred to Dean. He grunted something before turning around and walking into the bathroom, picking his bag up on the way. They had dealt with so many spirits that Sam's words had not really bothered Dean that much. After all the feeling he had had was difficult to explain; it was not the uneasy feeling of spirits and ghosts around you; just that feeling of being watched.

Dean felt better by the time he emerged from the bathroom with his usual clothes on: the jeans, the t-shirt and the jacket.

"Should we go and get something to eat?" He asked when he saw that Sam too had changed.

"Yeah, alright." Sam said moodily.

Dean cleared his throat lightly as Sam walked past him out of the door. They had reached the Impala by the time Dean noticed that he had forgotten the car keys. He hurried back to the motel room, unlocked the door and walked inside.

BANG

The ear-splitting sound of a gunshot went off. Dean turned on his heel and was staring out of the door. Sam was crouched behind the Impala but looked alright. When he saw Dean he held up a hand to signal Dean to stay. The night was quiet for a few seconds before other guests in the motel came out to see what had happened.

Dean hurriedly grabbed the car keys and walked back to the Impala. Sam was sitting against the Impala, clearly shaking.

"Sammy? Sammy, are you alright?" Dean said quietly, but anxiously as he knelt down besides his brother.

Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He got into the Impala and immediately tightened his seatbelt. Dean half-ran to the driver's side and hurried to get into the car. He started the engine and with spinning wheels, the Impala sped away from the motel.

"Sammy? Sam, are you with me?" Dean asked casting a glance at his brother. He was worried, frightened and angry as hell that someone had tried to shoot his little brother.

"Fine." Sam said quietly, though his eyes stared unblinking straight ahead. "What…what happened back there?"

"I don't know." Dean confessed though he urged the Impala to go even faster. "Let's just skip town; get the hell out of here."

"Dean, you may not have noticed, but we left our bags at the motel."

Dean cursed under his breath, as he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, sending the Impala into a wheel spinning circle. He parked so that he had the motel in sight. He looked around but could see no one. He looked by the trees close to the buildings but saw nothing.

"Sam, I'll go and get the bags; you stay here."

"No way." Sam said as he loosened his seatbelt. "I'm coming with you."

"Sam; someone just shot at you." Dean said sharply.

"At me? I thought they were shooting after you?" Sam said, looking thoroughly confused.

"Only more a reason for you to stay put."

"Look; drive up right next to the room. We'll go in get our bags and then we'll find another motel." Sam suggested. Dean blinked a couple of times not quite sure if he had heard correctly.

"Another motel?" He blurted out questionably. "Sam, we are getting out of town."

"Dean, we are on a hunt." Sam said looking at Dean in disbelief.

Dean shifted in his seat, so he could look at Sam easier.

"We are not staying." He persisted.

"We are finishing the job." Sam said firmly, as though there was no use arguing. "Now drive up there so we can get our bags."

Dean huffed, but drove up to their room anyway. He knew better than to argue with his brother when he had that tone. However, he was going to continue the argument when they had got hold of their bags. Dean parked the car as close to their room as he could and looked over at Sam, who had his hand on the door.

"One, two, three." Dean whispered and the two brothers rushed from the car and pelted into the motel room. At any other occasion the scene would have been comical. In a matter of seconds the boys had grabbed hold of their bags and ran back out to the car, thrown their bags into the bag seat and jumped into the car. Dean started the engine again and took off.

They remained quiet for a couple of minutes; Dean desperately trying to get his heart rate under control. He was shaken from what had happened, not that he was just about to say that to Sam. One look at his brother told him that Sam was just as shocked as Dean.

"Do you think it was the FBI?" Sam asked breaking the silence.

"Wouldn't really just have shot one shot and gone away again, would they?" Dean reminded as he turned the Impala down a narrower road.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked him immediately.

"Getting out of here." Dean told him again, preparing himself for the argument that was bound to break loose.

"Dean, we are going to finish this job. What happened earlier might just have been an accident; maybe we just freaked." Sam reasoned. Dean would hear none of it and persistently drove on. "Look, there's a motel up there; let's just check in and stay there for the night. There's even a café next to it so we don't have to go into town for food."

Dean drove past the motel and the café. This time, he told himself, he would not budge. He would keep driving until Sam dropped it.

"So, it was fine letting ourselves get busted to save a bunch of prisoners, but it's not okay to save a couple of innocent people?"

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean hissed, as he slowed down the Impala and turned the car around. He knew when he was defeated. When Sam started using past jobs in order to get Dean to do something, there were only more unpleasant things to come.

"It's Sam." His brother reminded him as he pulled in at the motel.

Dean remained silent as he hoisted their bags out of the back seats.

"You go get us a room." Dean told Sam when he went to get his own bag.

Sam didn't argue and walked towards one of the many signs that bore a tattered sign reading 'RECEPTION'.

* * *

Sam lay staring at the ceiling of the dark motel room on one of the hard beds that had been available. He tried to clear his mind of the day's event and simply fall into a restful sleep, but find it hard. He knew that gunshots were loud, having fired many himself, but the one that had gone off earlier kept reciting in his ears. He had been frightened, of course he had, but he did not want fear to overtake everything, not after everything they had been through. He had told Dean of his concerns about doing a job so close after their breakout. However, having arrived on the scene he wanted to at least see the job through.

Dean had been strangely quiet after the shooting, telling Sam that his brother was scared too; never one to admit it, though. Sam shifted slightly on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but sleep would simply not take over. From the lack of sounds, Dean was still awake too; though neither wanted to disturb the other. Sam ran a hand through his hair, making it messier than before and tried to get his head around the things that had taken place. Keep your mind on the hunt, he told himself. Easier said than done, another voice responded slightly offended.

_Jake Knowel; think about the hunt; Jake Knowel_. He thought, frantically trying to block out the memory of the gunshot.

_Gunshot! Gunshot! Gunshot!_ The other voice screamed excitedly.

Sam moaned slightly and rolled over on his side. He was amazed that even after such a long day, his body would not let him rest. Well, that wasn't entirely true; his body was more than willing to let him rest, his mind, on the other hand, wasn't.

He jumped up, almost falling onto the cold floor, when he heard a dustbin falling over outside. He sighed at his own stupidity and let himself fall back down on the bed. He was waiting for his brother to ask if he was okay, but no voice came through the darkness; Sam figured that it was probably because of Dean's general no chick-flick moments rule. He considered for a moment to wrap his pillow over his head to stifle the sound of the gunshot, which was now happily replaying in his mind whenever he was not thinking of anything else.

"Dean?" Sam said finally.

"Yeah?" Dean responded, proving for Sam that he had been right.

"Are you awake?" Sam felt like kicking himself when the words had escaped his mouth.

"No, I'm just answering you in my sleep, dude." Dean said sarcastically.

"Very funny." Sam snapped.

Sam's urge to talk to his brother had suddenly subsided and he remained quiet. He heard Dean let out a deep sigh and rummage about in the bed. Sam was thankful when some time later he actually found sleep; maybe it was not relaxing, but at least it was sleep.

* * *

Dean felt light press against his eyelids, but he did not open them. It had been so soothing to actually get some sleep that he did not really want to wake up just yet. Instead he listened to the sounds from the rooms next to theirs as others moved around their rooms, talking in voices which were muffled by the thin walls. It was when he heard the turn of the doorknob to their room that his hand swung to the bedside table, grabbed his gun, clicked off the safety and pointed it straight at the door, eyes wide open.

Sam emerged, looking rather startled as he saw Dean, with his morning hair, sitting upright in bed and pointing a gun at him. Dean put the safety back on before allowing himself to fall back down on the bed.

"Dude, you're supposed to knock." He complained quietly.

"Sleep alright?" Sam asked as he sat down on the end of his own bed, putting down two paper bags.

"After you stopped talking."

To Dean's relief, Sam ignored his comment and instead passed him one of the paper bags.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked as he sat back up in the bed. Sam nodded.

Dean grunted as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, ruffling up his already messy hair. Compared to last night, he felt rather tired.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Dean asked Sam some twenty minutes later.

"Maybe try to find the house that Jake Knowel was maybe burned in. I mean, it would be nice to get this done…" Sam said, a little too careful not to mention anything about the day before.

"Yeah, Sam, it would be nice to get this done so we can get the hell out of here." Dean said calmly. He was not in the mood to fight and only hoped that Sam would pick up on his I-don't-want-to-fight vibe.

"Yeah, sounds good." Sam said as he led the way out of the door to the Impala.

Dean picked up their bags, thinking that he would like to be on the safe side this time; just in case.

* * *

**That was the third chapter then; it would be great with a review!**

**Big time action is promised to happen in the next chapter!**

**_Disclaimer_: I own nothing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assasins are on their tail along with an angry spirit.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! As promised, something actually happens in this chapter...**

* * *

**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 4_**

The black Impala was parked at a tattered garden fence overlooking a few piles of burned wood. Its owners were rummaging through burned remains. Passers-by would have thought that the scene looked immensely strange, but no one came here anymore. The house that had stood on firm ground many years ago was gone and nobody had even pretended to want to rebuild it.

Dean kicked a pillar aside that smouldered into ash at some places at the harsh treatment.

"You think this is enough to hold a spirit?" Dean asked his brother in disbelief. Dean had seen many strange things, but he did not think that this looked a likely scene to hold a spirit.

"Doesn't really seem likely, does it?" Sam said, disappointment seeping from his words.

"No, it doesn't." Dean said as he crouched down to take a closer look at the remains. "There seems to be nothing here, Sam."

"I know." Sam said, as he too crouched down. "Do you reckon that there was maybe a cellar?"

"Might have been." Dean said as he stood up again. "Do you want to remove all of this?"

"Good idea."

"Wipe that smile from your face, Sammy boy." Dean informed him, but Sam's smile remained firmly in place.

Dean grunted something, but started to push some of the wood aside. There seemed to be very little holding the blocks together; Dean figured that it probably couldn't be any different, considering the treatment the house had received. After what felt like a very long time, Dean checked his watch and saw that they had been moving the remains around for roughly ten minutes.

"What if there isn't a cellar?" Dean complained as he shoved the end of a pillar aside.

"Then I guess we will just have to torch the remains of the house, and see what happens." Sam said casually as he pulled what could have been part of a wall – though it was impossible to tell – over to where they dumped everything they moved.

"And if it doesn't work?" Dean asked, wanting to hear from Sam what his idea of all of this was.

"We'll just have to start with the research again, won't we?"

"Yippee." Dean said quietly. He did not want to bring up the events of what had happened the day before. This was simply not the time for them to start a fight. Then something out of the corner of his eye on the ground caught his eye. "Sam."

He heard his brother approach and he pointed at the trap door that was vaguely visible through ash and dirt. The brother's shared eye contact for a second before Dean leant forward and pulled open the trap door. Both brothers jumped backwards. The smell that met them was foul.

"After you, princess." Dean offered, though when Sam only glared at him, he grimaced and lowered his body into the hole. It was pitch black. "Hey Sam! Cast me a flash light!" A second later Dean felt something hard hit the top of his head. The flash light landed hard on the ground, turned on, emitting the cellar with light. Dean growled, "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam joined him a few seconds later with his own flash light in his hands. They both flashed the lights around trying to make head and tail out of the cellar. The place was complete filth. The smell was indeed rather horrible. They both held their sleeves over their mouth and nose as they made their way carefully through the spider webs and darkness.

"Dean, I think I found him." Sam voice called through the cellar. Dean rushed to his brother to be met with the source of the smell. A half-rotten corpse lay before their feet.

"So he met his _sticky_ end eventually." Dean joked. Sam glared at him with a look that clearly told him that his brother thought that sometimes, he was rather gross. "You sure it's him?"

"Nope, but I am not really in the mood to investigate him further."

Dean had to agree with Sam; it would not be pretty if they actually had to come too close.

"Better get the things then." He said as he turned around and started heading back to the trap door.

He took a large gulp of fresh air, relishing the taste of it. Sometimes he really hated this job. He walked over to the Impala and was about to open the trunk when he paused. He again had that uneasy feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, but could see nothing except for dense woodland and the road in the distance. He shrugged and opened the trunk. He made his way back to the trap door hurriedly with the things needed for the salting and burning of the remains. He slipped through the trap door only to see the face of a shabby looking man with long, greasy black hair. His eyes were small as black as his air. The sides of his mouth were as downcast as his crooked nose.

"SAM!" Dean bellowed as he dodged a blow from Jake Knowel's spirit.

Sam came at hurried pace around a pillar. His eyes widened when he saw the spirit, but he raised his shotgun and shot a blast of rock salt at Jake Knowel. The spirit disappeared into thin air.

"Dean! Do the remains; I'll hold him off." Sam yelled as Jake Knowel materialised next to Sam and received another blast of rock salt.

Dean ran through the cellar to the remains. He heard the shotgun go off several times, which only made him act faster. He scattered the salt over the body and covered it in fuel.

"Sam! Get out!" Dean yelled as he held up the lighter. He heard another load of rock salt being shot before Sam's hurried footsteps were rushing to the trap door. Dean ignited the corpse, only few seconds before Jake Knowel stood before him. Dean looked the spirit in the eyes as it burst into flames.

Dean turned around and headed for the trap door, grateful that now they could at least leave this town. He heaved himself out of the cellar, got to his feet and turned to face the Impala. He gasped.

Sam was lying under another man with spiky blonde hair being beaten repeatedly around the face. Blood was pouring from Sam right shoulder and was only resisting feebly against the attacker. Dean yelled and ran forwards. The attacker looked up with an expressionless face as he received a well aimed kick to the jaw by Dean. The man fell backwards, but was on his feet again in less than a second.

Dean received a hard blow to the head, but returned with a punch at the attacker's already beaten jaw. Dean blocked a kick but was caught off guard as was harshly hit around the face again. The world was spinning, but he pulled himself together and blocked three more blows from the other. This attacker seemed to know methods that Dean had never seen and he had to act purely on instincts as blow after blow was sent at him. Dean paused and eyed the knife his attacker had pulled out. The man charged at him, but Dean veered away, avoiding the knife narrowly.

The attacker was back with more blows that Dean had no time to block. He felt himself hit the ground hard, but rolled away before the other had time to pin him down with the knife. Lying on the ground he kicked the feet away from the attacker who landed hard on the ground, knife clutched in his hand. Dean flung himself at him wrestling the knife from his hand. Both men received blows that hit like bullets. Dean found himself on top of the other's back pinning him down onto the ground with his knees. He felt his hands on the man neck. He heard Sam shout at him, but with a scream of fury, he had snapped the other's neck in mere seconds.

Dean pushed himself off the man and scrambled backwards, still on the ground, eyeing the other closely, waiting for black smoke to release itself. None came.

* * *

Sam watched as though petrified as Dean snapped the man's neck. He had tried to stop his brother by calling out, but to no success. He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he walked shakily towards Dean. Dean's face was lined with blood, and he still sat on the ground, gasping and staring at the man in shock.

"Dean?" Sam said cautiously as he lowered himself to the ground next to Dean. He expected to hear a snappy remark, but none came. His elder brother remained silent and merely watched the dead man lying before them. Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder and felt that his brother was shaking.

"He…he wasn't a demon?" Dean whispered questionably and suddenly Sam understood.

His brother had killed a human. Even though Sam's shoulder and head was throbbing he knew that now was the time he had to be fully aware of what was going on with Dean.

"Dean. Dean, come on." Sam whispered encouragingly to his brother, who still had his eyes locked on the dead man. Sam gave Dean a light tuck on the arm with his left. He helped heave his brother from the ground and guided him back to the Impala. He sat him down on the passenger seat. He hurried back to collect their things, but paused when he was about to pass the dead man.

He sat down next to him and carefully searched through his pockets. His hand closed round pieces of paper and a phone. He pulled it out and hurried back to the car. Dean sat with his eyes closed, still shaking, as Sam lowered himself into the driver's seat. He started the engine and the Impala sped away from the scene.

None of them spoke for half an hour, lost in their own thoughts. Sam shot nervous glances at his brother, who was unusually quiet. Sam knew why. He had been shocked to see his brother kill a human, so he could only imagine how Dean felt himself. After forty-five minutes he noticed that he needed to stop for petrol and pulled in at the next gas station.

Dean opened his eyes when the car stopped. His eyes flickered around a bit, but he got out of the car.

"Restrooms." He explained quietly and headed for the toilets, while Sam filled up the car.

* * *

Bobby settled himself on the couch in his living room with a cup of coffee and a book. Sure, the book was about supernatural creatures, but anyhow the hunter had decided that he wanted to just sit there for a while and read. His plans were interrupted, however, when he heard his cell phone ringing from the kitchen. Cursing himself for not bringing the damn thing with him he got up and walked into the kitchen. He was relatively surprised to see DEAN written across the screen.

"Hello?" Bobby said, as he answered the phone.

"_Hi there, Bobby._" Bobby was immediately stricken by the voice that he heard. Dean's voice was shaking and it was easy to hear that he was fighting against tears.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, sounding more worried than he wanted to.

"_I killed someone, Bobby._" Dean's voice croaked as Bobby's insides churned at the words.

"Come on, Dean, you've killed demons before." Bobby said, trying to figure out what happened.

"_I…he was human._" Dean's voice broke. Bobby was shocked at the words, but knew that he was the one who needed to be the strong one right now.

"Dean. Dean, listen to me." Bobby said, hoping that Dean was paying attention. "You get down here."

"_Can't do that._" Dean's voice was suddenly more firm.

"Is Sam with you?" Bobby asked, half-hoping that he could talk to the younger brother.

"_By the car_." Dean's vague response came.

"Alright," Bobby, said an idea coming to him, "you get yourself and your brother to the Roadhouse; I'll meet you there. That's closer than my house, anyway."

"_Okay._" The line went dead.

Bobby started to hurriedly pack his things and called Ellen at the same time to tell her what was happening. He only had his mind half on what he was doing as he was constantly worrying about what he would find when he arrived at the Roadhouse.

* * *

**Reviews are always greatly appreciated!**

**_Disclaimer_: I still don't own the show or the characters.**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tail, along with an angry spirit.**

**A/N: Thanks so much to all who have reviewed! It really makes my day! Moving on, so sorry it took me so long to update. I have just started at a new college (studying English Language, English Literature, Classical Civilisation, Philosophy and Critical Thinking arghh!), so everything's been a little bit hectic. All that along with my computer having a little brood - which means it decides against doing anything! Well, enough drabble, on with the story!**

* * *

**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 5_**

The Impala came to a halt in front of the slightly worn wooden building. Sam cast a glance at Dean and noticed that his brother looked vacant. Sam had to admit that he had been surprised when he said that they were meeting Bobby at the Roadhouse. Dean had constantly avoided eye contact with Sam as he had checked the wounded shoulder. It wasn't as bad as Sam had first feared; luckily the bullet had only scraped his arm. Dean had also insisted on driving even though Sam noticed that he still looked horribly pale and withdrawn. He had not argued, however, and had let his brother play the music loud enough to drown out any attempted conversation. The drive had therefore indeed been long, and slightly awkward.

He was glad to see that Dean had managed to wash off most of the blood from his face. Sam had therefore also decided to follow his example. True, the toilets at the gas station had not exactly been first class, but the mirror had not lied about his appearance: he looked liked he had just been hit by a steam train. He told himself that it was not that bad, and sure he had looked a lot better after washing off the dried blood, but the bruises and cuts were still clearly visible.

Arriving at the Roadhouse, however, did not seem to lift any of the brother's spirits. Sam undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. He noted that Bobby's truck was parked a little way from the Impala. He looked towards the wooden building in front of him, hoping that it was not a bad idea to come. Half of him wanted to talk to Bobby and Ellen; the other half wanted to get back in the car and drive away. Sam turned to watch Dean climb out of the car. He too took a glance at the building.

"I'm going for a walk." He said tonelessly as he turned his back to Sam and walked away from the building.

Sam sighed, thinking that he should probably have counted on his brother bailing out when they arrived. He decided that it was no use staying by the car or walking after Dean, so he instead walked slowly towards the front door to the Roadhouse. He pushed the door open with the same laziness, still arguing with himself if he should simply turn around. It was too late, however, as he stepped into the well-known room. The voices that had filled the room instantly ceased, and Sam looked towards the bar to see Ellen behind the counter and Bobby sitting on the opposite. They both looked round at him.

"Hey Ellen; Bobby." Sam said awkwardly, still standing at the door.

"Hey Sam." Ellen said, attempting a smile. "Are you going to come in, or just stand there?"

Sam returned her smile and walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Where's Dean?" Bobby asked as Sam sat down next to him.

"He…er…went for a walk." Sam said.

Bobby grunted, but Ellen just stared at Sam. He looked up at her for a moment wondering if she would ever lower her glare.

"You look like shit." She said as she finally took her eyes off him.

"I've looked worse." Sam chuckled. Ellen was not usually the type who came out as a caring, loving woman, but she had her moments.

"I was really going to ask this when Dean was here, but what the hell; what happened?" Bobby asked, and as he spoke Ellen's eyes returned to stare at Sam.

Sam was silent for a moment trying to think of how he was going to put into words what had happened.

"Well, we were hunting down Jake Knowel's spirit," Sam said, thinking that he would at lest start of with the spirit. "We found his…remains in a cellar. Dean went to get everything so we could do the salting and burning. When he came back Knowel's spirit was there. I held him off while Dean got to the corpse. He called to me to get out so I hurried out." He paused for a moment trying to recollect the events that had happened thereafter. "After that everything happened pretty fast. I started to have an uneasy feeling, just for a second and I took a step towards the cellar. I heard the gunshot and felt the bullet scrape my shoulder, but none of it really made any sense. Before I even had time to register what had happened there was this guy on top of me, pretty much…you know…using my face as a punching bag." Sam cleared his throat, trying hard to think of what had happened next, wanting the events that had unfolded to change. "Next thing I know, he's off me and fighting Dean instead. He was pretty damn good; he knew moves I had never really seen, and I wouldn't exactly say that he went easy on Dean. Eventually Dean had him on the ground, and…I shouted at him not to, you know? But he killed him." Sam paused again, the memory of what had happened suddenly playing in his mind. "He…he thought it was a demon, of course, otherwise he would never…"

Sam's voice trailed off, wondering if he was right; would Dean had let the man live if he had known that he was not a demon?

"Any idea why he was attacking you?" Ellen asked, bringing Sam back to reality.

"No…well, I know that we are wanted fugitives, but he did not really seem the police, FBI, kind of guy. I got these things from him." Sam said as he dug out all of the items he had taken from his attacker. He laid them out on the table in front of them.

Bobby picked the items up one after the other, studying them closer, Ellen did the same. Sam only stared at them, somehow feeling that he wanted nothing to do with what was lying before him.

"Holy crap!" Bobby suddenly exclaimed after a couple of minutes silence.

"What?" Sam and Ellen asked simultaneously and looked at him.

"To be quite honest with you," Bobby said as he unfolded a piece of paper, "I think he was an assassin."

Bobby turned the paper around so the other two could see it. It showed two pictures in black and white: one of Sam, the other of Dean.

"There is a reward on us?" Sam asked, thinking that his brother would most likely have asked how large the reward was for them, had he been there.

"Seems like it." Bobby said as he turned on the phone. "Don't really know why he even had that with him; it's all right here any way."

He showed Sam the phone, which showed the same two pictures. Sam felt his stomach tighten into a knot.

"And you're sure that he was an assassin?" Sam asked, hoping that maybe Bobby had just been superstitious.

"It says you're targets, Sam." Ellen pointed out.

Sam opened his mouth, but Bobby cut him to it.

"Sam, did you even notice that the man had two passports on him?"

"Three." Ellen said before Sam could answer, as she threw down the passport she had been studying.

"Why would a guy wonder around with three passports?" Sam asked, what he thought was the obvious question.

"Yeah, does seem kind of…unnecessary." Bobby admitted. "Did you ever notice any kind of transport tailing you?"

Sam thought hard, but couldn't think of anything, "No."

Bobby grunted again and put down the phone. Sam picked up the passports and looked through them one by one, seeing that they had all been used; how many people had this guy killed? In each passport was the same photograph though a different name was written in each. A thought suddenly struck him.

"Dean knew."

"What?" Bobby and Ellen exclaimed.

"Well, he didn't know that it was an assassin, but he knew that something was wrong. I just didn't listen to him." Sam admitted, feeling guilty at the thought.

Bobby and Ellen remained silent.

"Bobby?" Sam said questionably. When the older hunter looked at him telling him that he was listening, Sam continued. "Who called who?"

Didn't really know why the question was important to him, but he had wanted to know ever since Dean had told him where they were going and who they were meeting.

"Dean called me." Bobby said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No."

Again Bobby didn't say anything but merely nodded.

"How far do you think he went?" Ellen asked looking towards the front door. Sam looked at his watch and noticed that they had been at the Roadhouse for nearly an hour.

"No idea." He admitted. He was getting more and more worried about his brother. It was as though he was shutting off somehow, not wanting to let out any of his emotions or talk about what had happened to anyone.

"Do you want me to take a look at that shoulder?" Ellen asked, though her back was turned away from the two hunters.

"That's okay; Dean took care of it." Sam said. He knew that the dressing should probably be changed, but he did not find that this was the top priority.

"When was this?" Ellen said, still not looking at Sam.

"Couple of hours ago." Sam answered through gritted teeth.

"Don't you think it's a good idea to get it changed again, then?" Ellen said, returning a glare at Sam.

Both Sam and Bobby opened their mouths to answer back, but were cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Sam turned his head around to see his brother step over the threshold.

"Awkward." Dean said as he took in the scene before him. Sam turned his head to see that Ellen and Bobby were staring at Dean too. No doubt Dean had heard some of their bickering before entering the building, which led to some of the uneasiness in the silence that weighed down on them as Dean walked over to take a seat next to Sam. "You know, Sammy; Ellen's right."

"Yeah; I figured you would say that." Sam joked. He hoped that the walk had done his brother good, but somehow the way he moved and talked told him that Dean was not alright. "You okay?"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Sam knew that they were a mistake. He could almost hear Dean's teeth grinding against each other, but strangely he kept quiet.

Bobby cleared his throat and all three of them turned to look at him.

"While you were…walking…" Bobby started, keeping eye contact with Dean, "we found out some interesting things."

"Depends on how you interpret _interesting_." Ellen said with a glare at Bobby. _Well, at least she glares at other people than me_, Sam thought.

"Turns out that guy...er...you know, he was an assassin." Sam said.

"Assassin?" Dean said questioningly, looking from Bobby to Ellen and finally resting his gaze on Sam.

"Yeah." Sam answered vacantly.

"Well that sucks." Dean said truthfully.

"It more than just 'sucks'." Bobby growled. "This assassin knew where to find you. Doesn't that thought disturb you just a little bit?"

That thought had not even occurred to Sam. He ran a hand through his messy hair trying to think a bit clearer.

"How would he know that?" Sam asked, finally giving up with coming up with an explanation.

"Hendrickson?" Dean suggested, looking down into the table.

"Dean, do you honestly think that if Hendrickson knew where you were that he would send assassins after you?" Bobby hissed at Dean.

"Seemed evil enough." Dean said dully. He suddenly looked up and turned his head towards Bobby again. "There was just one."

"One, what?" Bobby asked, though he didn't really seem too interested.

"One assassin or whatever he was."

"Dean, please do me the favour of asking yourself the question if there would really only be sent one after you." Bobby said, irritation seeping out of his voice.

Dean merely shrugged and returned his gaze to the table. Sam started to wonder if there was something very interesting on the surface that was invisible to anybody except for his brother.

"So, who do you think would want to send assassins after us?" Dean asked the question that had been circling in Sam's mind ever since Bobby had first mentioned it.

Bobby shrugged, clearly lost for words.

"You look nearly as good as your brother." Ellen said to Dean's bent head.

Dean merely grimaced. Sam had to admit, though, that his brother did not exactly look good. The entire left side of his face was covered in purple bruises and he was pretty sure that his chest and abdomen would look little different.

"Where's Ash?" Dean asked, finally looking up.

"In his room. Sleeping or doing something I don't want to know about." Ellen said as she returned to clean a few more glasses.

* * *

A couple of hours later, after dinner, Ellen had shown each of the boys to a room. She just left Sam's room after having said goodnight and was making her way towards Dean's. Ellen had seen from the moment that Dean walked through the door that he was far from alright. He was clearly still shaken from the incident, and she wasn't sure if Sam could see all of it. She stopped in front of the wooden door and knocked. She heard some muffled noises from behind the door, before Dean's voice told her she could come in. She opened the door to find Dean with his back to her. He turned around when she closed the door behind herself.

"Oh, hi Ellen." He said, looking slightly taken aback that it was her._ Probably thought it would be Sam coming_, she thought. "Thanks for letting us stay here."

"It's no problem." She said, her voice sounding harsher than she had meant to. However, she decided that she better jump right into it. "You didn't have much to say about what happened."

"Not much to say really." Dean said, flashing one of those smiles that clearly said that he didn't want to do this right now. _If he thinks he is getting off this easy, he better think again_.

"Did you think he was a demon?" Ellen pressed on. She could see him fighting to hold up his façade, but she would not let this drop now.

"Yeah." Dean admitted, though he turned his back to her again, rummaging through his bag.

"You know he would have killed you and Sam, if you had not killed him, right?" Ellen asked. She needed to know if he was aware that what he had done had been a necessity for them both to stay alive.

Dean kept his back to her as he spoke, "I know."

"I'm not entirely sure you do." Ellen said leaning against one of the walls, eyeing Dean's back.

"Of course I do." Dean said, trying to build up his façade once more. Ellen kept quiet, just watching him, waiting for him to act first. They were silent for a while. Ellen noticed that Dean was merely fingering the insides of his bag. "You know," Ellen straightened up a bit, "I can still hear the sound of his neck snapping in my ears. Stupid, huh? I mean, all I saw was a guy pounding away on Sam…"

"You don't need to make excuses for what happened." Ellen informed him.

"Yeah, I know that."

"Awfully many things you know all of a sudden." Ellen said, before turning around and walking towards the door again.

"Thanks again, Ellen." Dean said, as Ellen's hand closed around the doorknob. "You know, for everything."

"See you in the morning." She said before closing the door behind her, giving him some time to ponder on what had been said.

* * *

**If you want more you got to review...**

**_Disclaimer_: Nope, last time I checked, I didn't own the show or the characters.**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assasins are on their tail along with an angry spirit.**

**A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update! As I said in the last chapter I have just started at college. Along with that I have just been down with a pretty bad flu - hence the chapter being a bit, okay! very short. Anyway, it does not seem as though there is a big feedback response on this story. Please do review when you have read: whether it's good or bad.**

**With that said...on with the story!**

* * *

**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 6_**

The sky was gold. That wasn't quite true; it was gold with streaks of red and pink. The light from the setting sun showered the ground beneath it in a golden light, showing each shade in a leaf and every lake reflected the light back. It was graceful; simply beautiful. Every night since their arrival at the roadhouse – with the exception of the first night – Dean had come out here in the Impala to watch the setting sun. It was the most beautiful scenery and he had noticed that just before the sun disappeared behind the distant hills, the ground was flooded in that golden light.

He got up from the front of the Impala and started walking along the edge of the lake, watching the light rippling on the surface of the water. It had been four days since he had murdered the assassin. It had helped him to know that the others did not blame him or think bad of him for what he had done, but he couldn't help but feel like that himself. He stopped walking – stopped thinking – when a bird came swooping down towards the surface of the lake. It wings beat momentarily against the surface of the lake, the water droplets glittering in the light from the setting sun.

He walked on again; occasionally casting a glance at the sky, the lake or the trees. He breathed in the evening air, allowing it to fill him up completely, while his boots thudded gently on the soil. He walked down, right by the edge of the lake and sat down, running a hand through the cool water. It was getting darker, but the sun's rays still held onto the lake's surface, refusing to let go of the beauty just yet. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the water around his fingers and the last remaining light from the sun on his eyelids. He allowed the last warmth of the sun to fill him up and let the darkness come slowly.

"DEAN!"

He woke abruptly to hands shaking his shoulders. He blinked a couple of times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Sam was sitting in front of him, his hands on Dean's shoulders.

"Get off, Sammy." Dean said quietly as he pushed himself up. _God, it was cold_.

"You okay?" Sam asked looking at Dean intently. Dean hated it when his brother did this. It was as though Sam was trying to look right through him, daring him to lie.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean growled as he shrugged Sam off, only now noticing Ellen standing behind his brother.

"What were you doing out here?" Sam asked as they started walking back towards the cars.

"Nothing." Dean said casually. Sam stopped and looked at him with a look that told Dean that his brother was going to get the truth out of him way or another. "Just watching the sunset."

"Yeah, because that is just what you do." Sam said angrily as he started walking in front of Dean towards the cars. Dean shot a glance in Ellen's direction. He caught her eye, but she merely winked at him.

"What time is it?" Dean asked as he reached the Impala.

"Almost midnight." Sam said as he opened the passenger door to the Impala. Ellen walked over to her truck and got in, starting up the engine.

Dean walked over to the driver's side and got in. Sam sat down on the passenger seat with sulky expression on his face.

"You were worried?" Dean had meant it to sound as though he was making fun of his brother, but instead it came out as a question; he almost sounded worried himself.

"Yeah, Dean! Of course I was worried." Sam exclaimed, his hands flying in every direction. "An assassin attacked us; you just killed him. You've been acting so besides yourself these days. How could I not be worried when you disappear like that?"

"Sammy, are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course I am." Sam turned his head and looked out of the window even though the car had not even started moving yet. "It's Sam."

"Whatever, dude." Dean said as he turned his gaze forwards as the engine roared to life.

Dean tried to concentrate purely on the sounds from the Impala as the car sped down the road towards the Roadhouse. He had music on as usual, but had it turned down low enough, so that conversation was possible. He knew that if Sam wanted to talk, it was better to just get it over with.

"I thought you were dead." Sam mumbled suddenly, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Dean admitted. Hell, he was sorry for everything: for scaring his brother, for ever letting Sam into this hunting business.

"Don't apologise, man." Sam said, clearly trying to sound angry, but as he was also fighting tears, it sounded more like a plea. "Just, you know, try to be a bit less careless."

"Careless, huh?" Dean said with a chuckle. "Sam, you know how boring life would be if I was _not_ careless once in a while?"

Sam seemed to suck on the thought for a while, because he was definitely very quiet.

"So," Sam said after a little while, as he shifted in his seat, "what were you doing out there?"

Dean looked at him with a look of fake disbelief.

"I told you; I was watching the sunset." He said and smirked at his younger brother.

"Well, you're joking, right?" Sam said as he cocked his head slightly to one side as though trying to get a better look at Dean.

"No. You should come with me one day. It's beautiful." Dean whispered the last bit, mostly speaking his thoughts aloud.

"I'd love to." Sam said. He blinked a couple of times as though trying to come to terms with what Dean had told him, but ended him with a big, goofy grin on his face.

_Guess that's settled, then_, Dean thought as he parked the Impala in front of the Roadhouse.

Dean got out of the car stiffly, feeling his muscles protest against the treatment they had received. There was a weak light being emitted from the Roadhouse, but otherwise the site was in complete darkness. Dean heard Sam's door close and walked with his brother towards the front door. Dean felt his fingers close around the cold doorknob as he opened the door and walked inside.

Ash was sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer in his right hand. He turned his head round lazily when the door closed. He raised his bottle to Sam and Dean and took another swig. Sam headed for the bar and sat next to Ash. Dean paused in his tracks as he was about to follow. He did not particularly feel like sitting with his brother and Ash. He was tired and, though he hated to admit it, still rather cold. He changed his direction and headed for the stairs towards the bedrooms upstairs. He heard Sam call his name and heard his own voice answer something vaguely understandable.

* * *

Sam rested his head against the pillows and looked towards the dark ceiling. His body felt heavy as well as his eyelids. He felt darkness take him, clawing him in, making him submit to sleep.

He was walked silently down a dark corridor. He could see no light at the end, only darkness, though he kept walking in the hope that maybe something lay at the end of this darkness. Something to his left caught his eye. It was like a _thud thud_ sound. He turned his head towards the sound with interest, however, he saw nothing. He moved towards ever going thudding sound, intent of finding out the origin of this constant noise. There was nothing but pure darkness in front of him as he stretched out a leg, awaiting the familiar feeling of the floor beneath him.

He was falling; falling through the darkness. He did not even feel it when he stopped falling, though he knew he was lying on his back with his eyes closed tight, drawing the darkness ever closer. He felt something intensely cold against his forehead –

_Wait a minute_, he thought suddenly, _if I'm dreaming…how come I can feel?_

He forced his eyes to open, just in time to look at a gun pointing at his face.

* * *

**As I said before, please do drop in a review! As sad as it sounds it really does make my day! **

**_Disclaimer_: I - strangely - still don't own the show or the characters. How very peculiar...**


	7. Chapter 7

_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tail, along with an angry spirit.

A/N: I am _so_ sorry that I haven't updated in...well...forever. I have been ever so busy with college - hence the shortage of this chapter. Anyway, if you still want to read, go ahead...

* * *

**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 7_**

It was more a matter of instincts that made Sam able kick and hit the gun away from him. He was on his feet quickly and tried to run as fast as he could from the room. His flee was halted when the weight of his attacker crashed into his back forcing him into the wall. He just had time to shout out before his supply of oxygen was cut off. He tried anything he could think of to get the hands off of him, but movement became more and more difficult by the minute.

Dark spots started dancing in front of his eyes and he felt his body slide down towards the floor. He suddenly felt the pressure against his throat being released, but when he tried to draw a breath it caught painfully in his throat. He coughed to try and clear his airways, desperate to at least breathe. When he finally managed to draw a breath into his lungs he looked up to see his brother, with blood running down his face and from various other cuts, locked in close combat with Sam's attacker. Sam saw Dean do moves that he didn't even know they had learnt. He was definitely fighting dirty; dirtier than Sam had ever seen him do before with any supernatural creature.

Dean received a hard blow to his already tender head and was sent crashing into the wall, but he shook his head and violently returned to battle. It was hard to keep track on what was going on as each party seemed to have their own tricks up their sleeve and neither was willing to let the other win. Dean blocked a blow to the right side of his face, but instead received one to his left that again sent him spinning into the wall.

"DEAN!" Sam moved his head dully towards the voice and saw Bobby with a shotgun in his hand standing in the doorway with Ellen and Ash behind him.

The assassin looked round when he heard the name being called. He quickly looked round at the window at the other side of the room and ran towards it. Sam watched as if transfixed when the man took aim and jumped into the window, breaking the glass and hurling towards the ground. They all heard a sickening thump when he landed. Sam pushed himself to his feet and hurried over to look out of the window. The others followed him but it only took one glance to see that –

"He's alive." Bobby said.

Sam saw Dean jerk the shotgun from Bobby's grip and run out of the room. _No! He does not get to do this again._ Sam tried to rush out of the room, but had to do it at a slower pace due to his still protesting throat. The other three also rushed after Dean at a higher pace. Sam forced his legs into a run, but he was not pleased with the sight that met him when he reached the outside.

The attacker was crawling away on the ground looking mostly like a bundle of robes. Dean was about twenty yards from him, advancing with the shotgun. The first shot shook Sam to the bone; he had not thought that Dean would actually fire. It became clear to him at the second shot that _that_ shotgun was not loaded with rock salt. By the time Dean reached the bundle or robes, they were still. Sam tried to shout to Dean – tell him to stop – when Dean lifted up the gun and fired one more shot.

It seemed that the world around them froze. No one moved; Bobby, Ellen, Ash and Sam stood panting in the doorway, still in shock from what they had seen. Dean's head was hanging low on chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. Sam shook his head lightly to try and clear it, before taking a few tentative steps towards Dean. His legs felt like jelly but he finally reached Dean, who had still not moved from his position by the corpse of the assassin.

He looked closer at Dean's face and the sight shocked him. His brother rarely cried, but now glistening tears were running freely down his face. Being the little brother he had always found it hard to comfort Dean when he was very upset; it seemed that whatever he had to say could simply not soothe the pain that was held within. Sam lifted a hand and rested it gently on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned his head slightly towards Sam, but otherwise did not react. Sam heard footsteps approaching from behind them, and turned his head to see Bobby walking past them and sitting down next to the bloody body on the ground.

"He's dead alright." Bobby said, his voice shaking slightly as he withdrew his hand from the assassin's neck, where it had rested moments before. He stood up and looked at Dean. _No Bobby! Not now!_ Sam thought desperately as he saw the anger flaring in Bobby's eyes. "What the hell were you thinking?"

His voice wasn't loud, but the quietness of it made everything so much worse. His tone was harsh, angry, but still there seemed to be other emotions there as well. Dean didn't answer, merely lifted his head and looked at Bobby.

"He might have been able to tell us something if you hadn't gone right ahead and blown him to smithereens!" Bobby continued.

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly, "but I did what I had to do."

"Wound, maybe yes; but kill, no." Bobby said defiantly.

"He was going to kill him." Dean said, still in that quiet tone. _It's too quiet_, Sam thought, _just too quiet for Dean_.

"And you could have found out why!" Bobby hissed. Dean looked up at him. Sam thought he could see something in his brother's eyes, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"HE WAS KILLING SAM!" Dean bellowed before turning on the spot and heading back towards the Roadhouse. "We're leaving, Sam. Get your stuff."

* * *

Dean pressed his foot harder on the pedal and the Impala sped ever faster through the rural landscape bathed in the light of dawn. He had turned the stereo on loud, willing the shots echoing in his ears to be drowned out. He had done it again. _He was going to kill Sam_, he kept repeating to himself, hoping that if he just thought this enough times then the guilt would wash away.

He could feel his brother eyeing him, but decided to ignore him. No way was he going to deal with Sam right now as well. _Bobby was more than enough_. Dean had to admit to himself that he had felt terrified, and still did, for what he had done, but Bobby's ranting words had not helped. Maybe it would have been easier if the older hunter had just shouted at him. Dean had felt something inside of him crumble when he heard the hunter's tone of voice. Yes, he had sounded angry, but there was something else there as well: fear, and what was that other thing he had heard? _Oh yes_. Disappointment. Dean could accept the anger and fear, but dealing with the disappointment would be harder. However, he pushed the feelings aside, refusing to let them interfere now. _I did what I had to do_, he thought.

"Where to now then, Dean?" Sam's voice, still hoarse from its harsh treatment, called him back to reality. _How the hell should I know, Sam? They found us at the Roadhouse and I have a feeling that there are more on our tail than two._

"Don't know. For now I'm just heading for the next city." Dean said, though as soon as the words had left his mouth he knew that they were bound to start some sort of argument.

"Oh yeah? Well, that's a brilliant idea, Dean." Sam said sarcastically, setting his jaw. "Then we can get shot by the cops or FBI instead of assassins. Good plan, Dean, good plan."

"Well, if you're going to be like that –"

"Don't. Even. Start." Sam cut Dean off, speaking each word slowly and firmly. _Oh dear, I'm pissing him off_.

"Where do you suggest we go then, Sam Winchester?" Dean said, surprised to hear that there was a slight angry hiss audible in his voice.

"Oh I don't know, maybe just try and lie as low as possible for a couple of days." Sam said, his voice somewhat mocking.

"Now why didn't I think of that? No…wait…that's what we've been doing." Dean exclaimed. He didn't know if any of their brotherly bantering was getting them anywhere, but it felt good in a way; almost normal.

* * *

That's that then. Please review - I don't really mind what it is - good or bad.

_Disclaimer_: You may have guessed, but I don't actually own the show or the characters...


	8. Chapter 8

_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tails, along with an angry spirit.

A/N: Thanks so much for the review! I made this chapter a lot longer than the others to make up for the last two, so I hope it's satisfactory.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala in front of a couple of small containers that apparently represented a motel. He had driven the whole day, and for one of the first times in his life he longed to get out of his beloved car. He would never admit it to Sam, but he did feel quite cramped up after the long drive; he even had a headache. Quite a bad one at that, but he put it down to stress and the long drive. He stiffly climbed out of the car and waited for Sam to get out too. His brother, however, did not appear on the other side of the car. _Strange_, Dean thought as he bent down to have a look in the car. He stifled a laugh when he saw his brother slumped in his seat, fast asleep. _I can't believe I didn't see him fall asleep…or hear him._

"Sam?" Dean said as he gently shook Sam's shoulder.

Sam's eyes flew open immediately and searched around the car for a few seconds before settling on Dean. Sam cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times, clearly trying to wake up.

"How long have I slept?" Sam asked as he climbed out of the Impala.

"To be honest, I don't know." Dean admitted. "I didn't notice you'd fallen asleep."

"Where are we?" Sam asked eyeing the containers with suspicion.

"A motel far, far away from civilisation." Dean said as he closed his car door and walked towards the container which had a sign painted on the door, 'RECEPTION'.

"Are you getting the room?"

"Is this like twenty questions for the president?" Dean joked, but when Sam glared at him he continued. "You can drag your ass along if you want."

Sam looked slightly offended, but did not say anything; he merely walked after Dean to the reception-container.

* * *

Dean was relieved when he was finally able to allow his body to relax in the covers. His eyes fell closed and sleep crept over him like a spider spinning its web. He welcomed that darkness, and was glad that he was finally able to go to sleep. He hadn't slept since he had come back to the Roadhouse the night before, and he could feel it. His head was so heavy and hurt constantly. _Probably got bashed one too many times_.

Even in his dreams he could feel the painful jabs in his head and the sound of the gunshots echoed in his ears. He could feel the smooth wooden surface of the shotgun against his fingers. The images that flashed through his mind were of lifeless eyes and blood covered corpses.

He opened his eyes slowly when he felt something cold and wet on his forehead. He saw Sam's worried face and the first thought that rushed into his head was, _oh no! There was another one here_.

"Hey Dean, how're you doing?" Sam asked when he noticed Dean was awake.

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean said, but his voice sounded odd in a way to his own ears, and when he tried to sit up his head throbbed horribly and the room started spinning. _Great, just great._

"Dean, stop. Don't get up yet." Sam said, gently but firmly pushing his brother back into the pillows. "You were out for the whole night, and now its past noon. I don't know if I've ever seen you sleep that long before."

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean repeated. "I was just tired."

"Don't you try to pretend to pretend to me that all those hits you received to the head left you feeling 'just tired'." Sam said, a daring look in his eye.

"Alright, I'll be fine in a minute." Dean said, feeling that 'in a minute' sounded more right than 'right now'. He had to admit that, no, he was not feeling as good as he would have liked.

Sam nodded and moved away from Dean's bed. Dean could hear him rummaging about, but did not feel like lifting his head to see what he was doing. _Not yet…just give me a minute, Sammy._ He wasn't sure if 'a minute' was actually all he needed. _Okay, give me a couple of minutes, Sam._

The next time he woke, the light that was streaming in through the dirty windows was that of late afternoon. _Great, I've slept the day away_. He managed to raise his head his head slightly, but could not see Sam anywhere. He pushed his body into a sitting position, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, and looked around the tiny motel room again.

"Sam?" He whispered, but there was no response.

He heaved himself off the bed, but couldn't help feel slightly surprised at how dizzy he still felt. He slowly moved towards the window and peered out. The Impala was gone. _He has probably just gone to get dinner. Dinner! When was the last time I ate? Feels like it was five years ago. But, what if…what if there are more after us. Sam?_ He could feel his worry starting to increase, but assured himself that he was overreacting. His brother was strong and could take care of himself.

Dean padded into the bathroom, all the time keeping his ears pricked for the sound of the Impala returning. Just as he was walked back out of the bathroom he heard the familiar sound of the Impala's engine, and when he looked outside, he saw Sam step out of the car with a couple of bags in his arms. Dean smiled, glad to see his brother was okay. He backed slowly into the room and sat down on his bed, just as the door to the motel room opened. Sam walked in and upon seeing Dean up, sent him a quick smile.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked as he sat down on the bed opposite, putting the bags beside him.

"Dizzy and with the mother of headaches." Dean admitted. He really did not feel like lying and arguing right now.

"It probably did not help that you fell asleep by that lake." Sam said. "It was a little bit cold out there."

"Just a headache, Sam."

"And a fever earlier."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Man, do you know how much that sucks?" Dean chuckled. "It'll be a little bit harder fighting off assassins with a fever, a headache and the bonus of dizziness."

"Let's just hope they've given up, now they know what they get if they mess with Dean Winchester." Sam said, though Dean was not sure which of them he was trying to convince the most. "But you're feeling better?"

"Better than the last time I woke anyway." Dean said. _Well, at least that is true._

"I figured we would stay here for a couple of days…" Sam's voice trailed off when Dean sent him a look.

"Is this your idea of the perfect holiday home?" Dean joked and gestured to the small 'container' they inhabited.

"It was cheap." Sam said as he stood up again, crossed the room in two strides and got hold of his laptop.

"Yeah." Dean said when Sam sat down again. "I just don't like the idea of staying anywhere for too long."

"I know, but, you know, we might be alright now." Sam said unconvincingly.

"Yeah, I'm sure they sure they've given up on us after two dead assassins." Dean answered sarcastically.

They both fell silent, pondering on what had been said. The thought that worried Dean was that they would be found again. So far the attacks from assassins seemed unending even though there had only been two. Dean rested his head in his hands for a while, hoping it would clear the dizziness and allow him to think clearly. He missed going out to the lake. It had been a comforting place to be, and he had found he always felt more relaxed after having watched the last rays of the sun playing across the surface of the lake.

"Would you like some dinner…or in your case, breakfast, lunch and dinner?" Sam asked, ending the images playing in Dean's mind abruptly.

"Sure." Dean agreed and accepted the bag Sam held towards him.

* * *

They had stayed at the container motel for four days now, and Dean was starting to feel the effects of being cooped up for so long. Okay, maybe a couple of days weren't too bad, but it felt like eternity when there was nowhere to go, and nothing to explore. He was feeling restless, but worse: he was bored out of his mind.

"Sam, can we please do something that's a little more interesting than watching birds twitter in the trees?" Dean moaned on the fifth morning.

"Dean, stop complaining." Sam told him as he continued to type on his laptop.

"What are you doing anyway? You've been typing for so long; I'm beginning to think you're writing a novel." Dean joked and flashed a smile at Sam, which his brother did not return.

"I'm trying to find out if there's anything that could give us a clue to whether or not assassins are still after us." Sam said, hitting the ENTER button slightly harder than necessary.

Dean, unintentionally, felt his mask slip a little. He would _not_ let Sam see how much having killed two people still affected him. He did not want to think about it, and had therefore tried to build up a façade that was holding on pretty well, as long as no one brought up the word 'assassin'.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked Dean, as he momentarily looked away from the laptop screen.

"Ready to get out of here." Dean said, hoping Sam would not press the matter further.

"You know what I mean." Sam said quietly. _Yeah, I know what you mean, Sam; but that is not what I want to talk about right now._

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean said, though he did not find that his voice sounded very reassuring. Sam let it drop, however, for which Dean was grateful.

Sam sighed and got up from his seat on the bed. He walked over to the dirty window and peered out.

"Sam? Sam, what is it?" Dean asked urgently when he saw the muscles in Sam's neck tense up.

"We've got to go." Sam said as he rushed back into the room, throwing their belongings back in their bags before Dean even had time to register what he had said. "Dean, come on!"

"Is there another one?" Dean asked, as he finally got up from his seat on the bed and helped Sam pack.

"I think so." Sam said. "He went to reception."

They hurried as quietly as they could out to the Impala. Dean held his fingers around the handle of his gun, ready to use it if the occasion required. A motorbike was parked near the reception-container.

"Dean, give me the keys." Sam demanded with a hand outstretched when they reached the car.

"What?" Dean blurted out, not quite sure if he was hearing Sam right.

"We have not got time to argue about this." Sam hissed. "You have just had a concussion, so just give me the keys."

Dean reluctantly, but quickly, reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the keys. He thrust the keys into Sam's outstretched hand and hurried to the passenger seat. Sam was just closing the door when the door to the reception-container opened. The man who stepped out was of average height, with short cropped jet black hair, clearly showing off his handsome features. His clothing clearly suggested that he was the owner of the motorbike. He took off his sunglasses as he stepped out and surveyed the parking lot. Both Winchesters almost forgot to breathe as they watched the man walk steadily towards the room they had left only a few minutes previous. Dean saw him reach into his inner pocket as he neared the door. The hand that was not inside the coat, lifted up and knocked on the door. When the man received no response he slowly peered in through the window. He turned his head and his gaze rested on the Impala.

"Go." Dean managed to whisper as the man started walking towards the car. As soon as the engine was turned on the man changed direction and ran over to the motorbike.

Dean yelled at Sam to drive faster as he saw the bike drive out from the parking area, after them. Sam turned the car sharply down narrow roads, zigzagged and urged the Impala to drive faster. Still Dean could see the figure of the assassin hunched low over the bike, ever time he looked in his mirror, which was practically ever three seconds.

"Drive faster." Dean ordered. Sam obliged and Dean felt the Impala fly over a little hill, though as soon as the car landed, Sam turned a sharp left, into a narrow road surrounded by trees. He killed the engine and sat still, looking into the mirror. Dean looked into his mirror as well but saw nothing. The bike did not appear behind them and it could not be heard. Dean looked across at his brother and saw him panting hard. "Good driving there, Sammy."

Sam stuttered his thanks and allowed his head to fall back for a second. Dean found that he too was breathing rather heavily. He looked into the mirror again, but saw nothing but the road from which they had come and the trees swaying lightly in the wind.

"Hand me that map, will you?" Sam asked, pointing at the map sticking up from the passenger door. Dean lifted it out and handed it to Sam. He watched as Sam opened it and started scanning it, his eyes darting from side to side. "We're only one day's drive from the Roadhouse."

"I don't think we should go back there, Sam." Dean said quietly.

"No, I know." Sam said quickly, his eyes still fixed on the map. "Yes…yes, we could do that."

"Do what?" Dean asked. _I wish you could just tell me what you're planning, Sam. I really don't like surprises in this context._

"You see this town here?" Sam said, pointing to a cluster of colours on the map. Dean nodded. "If we drive through there, we should be able to loose him completely. It's actually almost like going in circles because if we do that, we'll be closer to the Roadhouse than we are now; you know, just in case we should need help."

"If that's what you want to do, Sam." Dean said. Arguing did not really seem like an option right now. He looked across at his brother again. _God, he looks exhausted_. "Let me drive for a while, Sam. I'm okay." He added quickly when Sam looked at him with a worried look.

Sam agreed silently and the boys swapped places.

* * *

It was getting dark by the time the Impala drove into the town. Even the town seemed to be asleep, save for a few places where the lights were still on. Sam sighed and leant back in his seat. He had to admit that he felt exhausted and was rather glad that Dean had requested to drive.

"Stop here for a second." Sam said as he saw a small shop coming up that was actually open. Dean looked over at him rather confused. "We're running out of food. I thought we should stock up."

"I can't park here, Sam." Dean said. Sam looked out through the windscreen and saw the yellow lines that Dean was looking at.

"If you park on the other side of the road and wait; I'll only be a minute." Sam loosened his seat belt and Dean stopped the car. Just as Sam was getting out of the car, he felt Dean's hand close around his arm.

"Be careful." Sam nodded. Dean seemed to forever be able to worry about him, but he agreed that now there was actually an excuse; except Sam was not the only one who should be careful.

"You too, Dean." Sam said as he climbed out of the car, closed the door and made his way into the little shop.

Sam heard the Impala drive away and suddenly felt uneasy. He pushed the feeling aside and carried on into the shop. It was a small little thing. The wall facing the street was nothing but glass showing the dingy interior. The lighting was far from perfect, but at least its items were of acceptable condition. He made his way towards the counter, where a sleepy-looking elderly man stood, looking like he was in his own little world. Sam cleared his throat loudly and the man jumped slightly before resting his eyes on Sam, who wasn't sure the man had even seen him come in. Sam went forwards and placed his items on the counter.

He looked out of the big glass window. The Impala was parked right across the dark street near a narrow alley. _This place gives me the creeps_, Sam thought. Then something caught his eye in the glass. A red light? It flared in his eyes momentarily, but it had already raised his suspicions. He looked down his chest where a little red dot was resting just by his heart.

Everything after that seemed to happen extremely fast. Sam's first thought was to get to Dean, to warn him; so he jumped towards the door just as a gunshot went off. Sam was pretty sure he avoided the bullet, but he was not as lucky with the glass that had exploded in all directions. Sam found himself on the ground with a searing pain across his chest. He raised his head. He could see the Impala, but that was not all.

His brother was out of the car. Time seemed to slow down as he raised his head a little further to see his brother a few feet from the car; running towards the shop. One step. Two steps.

BANG

Sam heard the gunshot before he even had time to register what was happening. He tried to yell to his brother as he watched Dean fall face down onto the hard tarmac.

* * *

Did anyone recognise that the assassin is the one from the first chapter? Well...now you know. We're now back at the 'beginning', so I hope you liked it.

I've already started on the next chapter so it shouldn't take me too long to update.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the show or its characters.


	9. Chapter 9

_Summary_: The boys have to put all of their training to use when assassins are on their tails, along with an angry spirit.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the _awesome_ reviews! So sorry this came out later than promised.

* * *

**Erased From This World**

**_Chapter 9_**

Silence surrounded him. He could hear nothing but the blood pounding in his own ears as his eyes rested on the still form of his brother. Sam pushed himself up, ignoring the searing pain that erupted in his palms when they made contact with the piercing glass. He did not think about what to do. He ignored the pain he now felt in his chest; he only wanted to get to his brother. _He can't be…NO! Don't even think about it…_

Sam limped out of the broken shop window, and rushed towards his brother who still lay on the ground, face down on the hard tarmac. _No, no, no ,no…_Sam fell to his knees beside Dean, his eyes fixed on the dark spot on Dean back, slowly increasing in size by the second. The blood felt terribly warm and wet against his hands and fingers as he gently turned Dean around.

His face was pale; too pale. Sam felt for his brother's pulse on the neck and almost leapt up in joy when he felt a faint pounding. It was not much, but it was there. San's eyes flew to Dean's face and noticed his brother's eyes were open, though they looked glazed. He looked down Dean's chest and saw another blotch of blood growing larger, like the wound in the back. _The exit wound._

"Dean?" Sam tried, feeling tears press on his eyes. The bullet had not punctured the heart, but he was unsure whether or not a lung had been damaged.

His brother blinked a couple of times, seemingly trying to draw enough strength to speak. Dean tried to mutter something but failed; instead he tried to lift a hand in Sam's general direction. Sam grasped it, allowing his brother to know that he was there.

"Dean, I'm going to have to move you. We have to get out of here." Sam said, gently tucking his arms around his brother.

Dean was limp in his grasp. Sam could feel his brother trying to hold on as his strength slowly ebbed away. Sam made it to the car before realisation shot through him. _He's coming_. He should have realised it right away that the sniper, the assassin was on his way towards them. He had to have moved since he had not shot at Sam as soon as he had raised his head. _He could be here any second. I have to get him away from Dean. I have to._ Sam moved towards the alley a little away from the Impala instead. He could feel his brother's blood starting to curl around his fingers in a slow, warm stream. _Hold on, Dean. Just hold on_.

He headed for two big black dustbins and carefully placed Dean behind them, making sure that he could not be seen. Before leaving him Sam tucked off his jacket, ignoring the painful jabs in his chest, and put it over Dean's chest.

"I'll be back, Dean. I promise."

Sam ran out of the alley, again ignoring the pain in his chest that erupted. He did not even want to look at it, in fear of what he would find. He could feel his own blood trickle almost gently down his chest. He forced his legs to run away from the Impala, away from Dean. He was glad to feel the coolness of his gun against the skin on his back. At least he was armed; he was not completely helpless.

Then he heard him. Long strides, boots thudding against the tarmac behind him. The hunter was being hunted. Even though this had been his plan, he could not help but feel panic rise in his chest. _Run_. He ordered his body to respond, to take flight, to run faster than what was pleasant. And still he heard his pursuer; always behind him. This assassin was better, smarter than the others, Sam concluded. He seemed to always be one step ahead, never resting.

Sam rounded a corner and stopped; trying to keep his breath quiet and under control. He heard the footsteps following him slow down to a slow, steady walk. _No; he can't know that I'm right here; he can't_. The footsteps neared the corner. Sam felt his heart pounding hard against his throbbing chest, and still he waited. The footsteps slowed down even further as Sam heard them approach the corner.

Sam allowed his mind to drift back to all the training his father had drilled him through. _Fight dirty_, Sam thought, _don't give him a chance; it's not like he's going to go easy on you_.

He was right by the corner now and still he walked. Sam was ready for him. He felt his elbow make contact with human tissue and did not hesitate to send a kick in the assassin's direction. However, Sam soon realised that this assassin was just as well trained in combat as he was, if not better. He sent a fist in the direction of the assassin's face which the other avoided and instead returned the favour. Each man gave his all, or at least Sam hoped that this was the assassin's all. The assassin kicked Sam hard in the chest and Sam only barely refrained from screaming when unbearable pain coursed through his chest. As he fought, however, Sam's body and muscles seemed to remember moves his father had taught him, and his blows became instinctive rather than a conscious process.

Sam stopped when the assassin landed hard on the tarmac. He loomed over him, taking care not to stand close enough to be in reach of the man's legs. The assassin pushed himself onto all fours and stood up again. Sam did not understand the feeling that was coursing through him. He knew that this man wanted to kill him. He knew that Dean was fatally wounded because of this man, but he was not sure if he would be able to kill him.

He saw the man advance at him again. He saw his dark eyes, the short black hair, the handsome face that was lined with blood. No. He was not sure he would be able to kill him. Sam tensed the muscles in his right arm, brought it back and swung with almighty force at the assassin's face. _Kill, no; wound, yes._

The assassin was on the ground again and Sam took the chance to continue his run. He cursed himself for not being strong enough to end it, but he had not wanted to. He did not want to kill anyone, especially not now. He dodged in and out of alleys and it was not long before he heard faint footsteps some way behind him again.

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran faster than his legs would let him. He almost fell when he turned sharp down a narrow alleyway with towering sides, leaving no places to change your mind. He kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to let himself look back. He ignored the pain in his side, telling him to stop. His head was screaming, his heart banging hard against his bloody chest.

He saw a high fence looming up ahead of him, and he shortened his strides for a few steps while calculating the distance. He sped forwards again and jumped up against the fence, crawling his way over it. He landed hard on the other side, falling down onto his side. He heaved for breath as he tried to push himself up. He heard footsteps running along the alley the way he had just come. He forced himself up and ran on. He rounded a sharp corner and recognised the street.

He ran on down the street, still ignoring the stitch in his side, his pounding head and banging heart. He saw the trustworthy black car parked on the side of the road. He ran past it and hurried on up another narrow alley. He skidded to a stop when he approached a pair of large black dustbins. Heaving for breath he walked round them and fell to the ground, which was covered in his brother's blood. He looked into his brother's face, seeing only a pale replica of the face he once knew.

He touched the other's hand gently and whispered in a hoarse voice, "Dean?"

"Dean?" He tried again. _Please, Dean, come on; just open your eyes_. His brother was still and Sam felt fear swell up inside of him. His brother still had a pulse. He was still alive. But for how long?

Sam listened, tried to hear if he was still being followed, but heard nothing. He gently lifted Dean, telling himself that it was just his imagination that Dean felt lighter than before. He carried Dean out to the Impala, and gently placed him on the backseats, so he could lie down. He knew he had to tend to those wounds; he should have done immediately, but it was not safe here. The assassin was still out there and Sam knew that his job was not done.

Sam sat down in the driver's seat, thankful that Dean had left the keys in the car. He started the engine and drove hurriedly through the town. He was out after ten minutes and had not seen a sign of the assassin. He drove for another few minutes before pulling the car over.

He ran to the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit. _This is taking too long_. He hurried back to Dean and tried to clean the wounds the best he could, a difficult task considering he did not have everything it took. _No, no, no. This is not working properly_. He had torn Dean's shirt and t-shirt not caring much for Dean's personal feelings for his clothing right now. He put on a quick dressing, though a red blotch was already building through the material.

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam yelled as he jumped back in the driver's seat and drove on. He grabbed his phone and dialled Bobby's number. "Bobby! It's Sam. Are you still at the Roadhouse?"

"Bobby's number. "Bobby! It's Sam. Are you still at the Roadhouse?"

"_Yeah, Sam, I am_." Bobby's voice sounded through the line. "_Are you guys okay?_"

"No, we're not okay…Dean's been shot." The words seemed to make everything too real and Sam fought hard to keep the tears at bay.

"_Sam, listen to me. How bad is it?_"

"Bad." Sam admitted. "He's lost a lot of blood and still losing."

"_How far are you from the Roadhouse?_" Bobby sounded worried, but as usual was a master at keeping calm in desperate situations.

"I would say about a two hours drive." _We're never going to make it with that medical kit._

"_Sam. Sam! Listen. We'll meet you and we'll do what we can. You just drive like there never was a speed limit._"

Sam agreed and gave Bobby the directions to the road he was following, put the phone down and pressed his foot hard against the pedal. He was not sure if he had ever driven this fast before. He wondered what Dean would say if he knew what Sam was asking of his car. _I'm doing it to save your ass, brother._

Sam stopped a couple of times along the way to change the bandages, but the bleeding did not seize. He tried hard not to panic and comforted himself with the thought that at least there wasn't a motorbike with an assassin on board on his tail.

Sam jumped in his seat when his phone's ringing broke through his train of thoughts. He quickly picked it up and saw BOBBY written across the screen.

"_Sam? Where are you now?_" Bobby asked when Sam answered the phone.

Sam told him and explained they had just passed a big bulk of stones.

"_I know where it is, Sam._" Bobby continued when Sam fell silent. "_We'll meet you in roughly five minutes._"

_Five minutes._ That was not too long. Sam glanced back at Dean and felt tears press in his eyes at the sight of his brother's pale face. Even his lips had started to loose colour, but Sam drove on, determined to do whatever he could to save Dean. Before five minutes had passed, Sam saw the headlights from Bobby's truck and pulled over. As soon as the truck reached them it stopped and Bobby and Ellen jumped out.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked as he and Ellen ran to the Impala.

"Not good." Sam admitted.

"He's in the back." Sam said as he opened the back door of the car.

Bobby and Ellen fell silent as they took in the bloodstains on the clothing, the pale face, the closed eyes, the limp body.

"What the hell happened?" Ellen demanded.

"We had to stop for some groceries." Sam said, avoiding eye contact with the other two. "We couldn't park right outside the shop, so I told Dean to park on the other side of the street while I got the stuff. I got what we needed and went to pay for it when…well…er…I caught this red light in my eye. Next minute it was at my chest and I jumped for it. The bullet went through this big glass window. I was on the ground when I saw Dean…falling when the bullet hit him." Sam paused for a moment, shuddering at the memory. "The bullet went through though."

"How did you get rid of the assassin?" Bobby asked as he lifted Dean's shirt and Sam's jacket away from the wound on Dean's chest. Sam gulped when he saw that the blood had seeped through the dressing again.

"I shared some of my feelings." Sam said, his eyes now fixed on the bloody shoulder.

"Ellen." Bobby said calmly. "Get me the kit in the truck. Get Sam to help you; it's pretty heavy."

"Come on, Sam." Ellen tucked at Sam's sleeve, pulling him away from his brother. They hurried to the truck, and while Sam pulled the medical box out of the truck, Ellen surveyed him carefully. "I take it the glass exploded."

"What?"

"The glass from the window." Ellen hissed. "I guess it exploded with you in front of it."

"Yeah?" Sam said hesitantly.

"So, how many pieces of glass have you got in you?"

"A few I guess; I haven't checked." Sam said. _Dean. We have got to help Dean. All this can wait._

With Ellen's help they started carrying the box back to the Impala. Maybe it was because the adrenalin had kept San going before, but he suddenly felt all the pain that surged through his body. He gritted his teeth and made himself ignore it. They put the box down by the Impala's back door, in Bobby's reach.

"I need to get this cleaned and sewed up. The same with the one on the back." Bobby explained as he got what he needed from the box and started to dab the wound in the shoulder clean. It was clearly difficult as blood kept oozing out of it.

"Will he make it?" Sam asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for a long time.

"Hand me the needle and thread, will you?" Bobby asked Ellen, avoiding Sam's question.

"Just tell me, Bobby; is there even a chance?" Sam asked once again feeling the tears in his eyes. Bobby sighed and looked up at him.

"It doesn't look as if a lung has been damaged; then he probably would have been dead now. That's at least something. When I get him patched up, it is mostly up to him." Bobby took a deep breath and continued. "He's lost a lot of blood, Sam."

Sam nodded, not daring to say anything that would cause the dams to flood.

It did not take Bobby long to do the wounds. He sighed as he stood up, accepting the towel Ellen was holding for him.

"Let's get back to the Roadhouse." Bobby said as he turned and headed for the truck.

* * *

There you go then. I hope you 'liked it'.

_Disclaimer_: I _still_ don't own the show or the characters.


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